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Best Poems Written by Gabriel Magno

Below are the all-time best Gabriel Magno poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Fruit of Fantasy

I yelled and flung the empty whiskey bottle through the air
The marching high school band is getting closer

Children running, playing with the pygmy bear
The carny selling snake oil, argues with the grocer

Soldiers marching past the fountain try hard to hide their stares
as ladies of the night walk by and boldly strut their wares

The preacher turns the other cheek, and quickly looks away  
As mothers hide their children’s eyes, on such a dreadful day  

The hunchback and the midget playing baseball on the grass
run off the growling rabid dog that almost bit their ass

The fishermen pull up their anchors in the dark and tranquil bay 
and sail off to their secret place, where mermaids swim and play

The doctors and the lawyers and their limo drivers too
lay drunk across their tables in the dimly lit saloon

The one eyed hooker sings aloud her favorite Country tune
As the village idiot runs in circles, howling at the moon

And me I’m just here sitting, watching from the bleachers
As children on their outing, yell profanities at their teachers

The firemen turn their hoses on the salesmen trying to sell
Direct TV subscriptions, as the crowds yell “go to hell”.

City lights come alive, the cats desert the streets
The silence of the falling leaves, are gathering at my feet

As I walk past the working men, erecting circus tents
To bring tomorrow’s curious here, to offer new events

Copyright © Gabriel Magno | Year Posted 2015



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My Horse

I ride my horse, I ride it fast, I’ve never known it to complain,
it doesn’t speak, it doesn’t weep, it takes me through the pouring rain.

I give it oats, I brush its coat, I keep it warm in Winter’s days.
close to my home, close to my kids, close to my heart it always stays.

I found a mare, I’ve oats to spare, it now has found its company.
if she is cold, and shies away, it knows its friend is always me. 

a year has passed, a colt was born, I watch them all run in the field,
and as I work, as I grow old, my love for them can’t be concealed.

no pulling carts, no pulling plows, nothing but grazing in the grass,
my kids will love each generation, and care for each one when I pass.

Copyright © Gabriel Magno | Year Posted 2015

Details | Gabriel Magno Poem

Hers To Stay

my first love, my high school sweet and shy girlfriend.
a feeling never felt before, I prayed it wouldn’t ever end.

the drive-in movies, the carnivals, we did them all in style,
I had no car, to see her, I walked more than a mile.

as years went by, after we wed, the arguments began.
I tried my best to calm the waves, but shattered was my plan.

now on the restless sea, tuna fishing in the hunting season.
I left her in Ohio, I had to leave, I had a single reason.

to see if absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they always say,
I don’t know who “they” are, but in my case it’s just a bad cliche.

months have passed and homeward bound, It’s hard to hide this feeling, 
that hopefully she has missed me badly, and we can start the healing.

nowhere to be found, I read the note that felt sharp as a knife,
she wants divorce, she’s with someone, she’s starting a new life.

living in Montana, a rancher now her new found love,
I must not haste to find her, this pain I must now rise above.

what can I say when it’s all over?, give me another chance?
no, when it has died, it’s hard to wake a dead romance.

time has slowly passed, the years have been unkind,
lines upon my face, my fate could well be signed.

one thing I know is true, I had the best years of my life,
to know that once, I had a young and loving wife.

the story is not yet over, the search is not yet done,
someone may walk into my life, and claim me for the one,

the one who’s more than ready, to give my faithful heart,
to someone who will stay, when things may fall apart.

if by chance a new love will be made, in some old fashioned way,
she can count on me, count on the years I will be hers to stay.

Copyright © Gabriel Magno | Year Posted 2015

Details | Gabriel Magno Poem

Montana

Watching crows eat roadkill in Montana, my rifle slung across my shoulder,
early morning workers sweating, cursing, as they break apart a boulder

Ice cream truck stops by the roadside, driver shouting “come and get it”,
A lumbering moose the only taker, the angry driver shouts “forget it”.

The river overflows into the valley’s golden corn fields
The farmers lay large sand bags, they fear to loose their yields

Crop duster circles as the crows fly in pursuit
of falling butterflies and ladybugs who perched upon the fruit.

The poison claimed their short lived lives today
bees flee, birds scatter, all escaping from the spray    

The bobcat spies the moose, in all it’s forest glory
pouncing on its back it sinks its teeth, I cannot watch, too gory.

Thunder in the valley, rain falls ‘cross the land
a forest dweller begs for help, he needs a helping hand

“My daughter ran away without a word into the city,
I only ask for where to search, I do not ask for pity”. 

“Dear man what can I say, I’m just a hunter, not raised in Hollywood,
where only bad girls find their way there”, the old man understood

He slowly disappears beyond the trees, and softly moans,
The crows have finished with the roadkill and only left the bones.

And me, I think I’ll patch my jeans, and jump into the water
and climb into my pickup truck, go searching for his daughter

I hold a picture I was given, as he walked into the woods
I must admit she is a beauty, and has the proper goods

To drive this man to find her, before she disappears,
into the crowded city streets, that drive young girls to tears

The beauty of Montana, the forest and the farms,
will call me back I pray, with his daughter in my arms

Copyright © Gabriel Magno | Year Posted 2015

Details | Gabriel Magno Poem

The Telegram

The Telegraph

by Gabriel Magno © 2014


The baby wakes the puppy, as she twists its little nose,
the mother drinking coffee, mends a small run on her hose.

The mailman rings the doorbell, rising up she stops her chore,
a telegram presented slowly, she smiles and shuts the door.

As she reads quietly, a frightful look distorts her face,
and then a shrilling scream, as her heart begins to race.

“We’re sorry to inform you, of your husband’s loss of life”,
the message from the army, cuts her heart as with a knife. 

Unsteady hands reach for the child, who lays atop the family dog,
her tears fall on baby's smiling face, her mind confused as in a fog.

The nights of making love, the days of sharing laughter, 
come to a sudden painful end, from this day ever after.

The mailman returned once more, a telegram in hand,
“how it was stuck inside my bag, I just don’t understand”. 

She thanked him, closed the door and wondered what it said,
silently she read the message, her husband was not dead. 

“We’re happy to inform you, your husband’s still alive”,
the message read, “was one of few who did survive”.

“The battle in the shallow gorge, where many brave men laid”,   
“accept our deep apology, this error in haste was made.”

And so the cloud had lifted from high above her head,
and soon again she’ll lay, beside her husband in their bed.

The mailman on his daily route, will once again bring to the door,
those telegrams, to wives and lovers, of those who live no more.

Copyright © Gabriel Magno | Year Posted 2015



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A Whaling Tale

A Whaling Tale

by Gabriel Magno

The whaling ships approach as I stare into the bay,
today I said by short farewells, to friends who pled I stay. 

A whaler I have dreamt to be, since I stood three feet tall,
my name appears among the list of worker’s on the wall.

I grab my heavy backpack, and board the pungent ship,
as whalers celebrate with wine, a long successful trip.

We sail under the moon light, as we brave the crashing waves,
and as the morning sun appears, the ocean now behaves.

The captain calls all hands on deck, to start the daily hunt,
he points and shouts “there she blows”, the whale we’ll soon confront.

Harpoon in hand I spot it rising, as we meet briefly eye to eye,
with trembling hands I cannot throw, and watch the peaceful creature die.

The captain shouts “throw hard, throw true, before it swims away”,
instead I dropped this lethal spear, and prayed it lives another day.

As I stood watching, another whaler did his duty and it was cast,
but as the Northern winds blew hard, it missed the whale who fled at last.

The captain’s wrath I took in stride, I count the hours until we land,
and no more do I dream of whaling, against it now I’ll surely stand.

God’s creatures one and all, are born like you and me,
to dwell in this a wondrous earth, longing to live peaceful and free.

Copyright © Gabriel Magno | Year Posted 2015

Details | Gabriel Magno Poem

The Bearded Lady

the circus clown is shattered, he’s fallen on his luck,
the bearded lady left him, the romance went amok.

the ringmaster calls for him, the show must still go on,
but as the crowd now gathers, he’s really come undone.

he’s off to see the psychic, his future must be read,
before he goes too far, and someone winds up dead.

the lion tamer heard the news, he searches for his friend,
the show is almost over, the children now depend,

on seeing their favorite clown, before the show is done,
as other clowns are booed, he shows up with a gun.

as people laugh and point at him, they feel this is a prank,
but as he pulls the trigger, their faces all go blank. 

lying on the ground, the blood begins to pour,
the ambulance approaches, the crowd heads for the door.

lying wounded on the bed, he’s barely heard to speak,
the nurse comes close to hear his words, although he’s very weak,

“I can’t go on without my love, I beg please pull the plug”,
but as a tear falls from her eye, she feels a gentle tug,

as fate has played its hand, the bearded lady now appears,
his eyes wide open once again, he stares and wonders as she nears.

“I’m sorry, I was wrong and I admit it”, forgive me if you can”,
a smile appeared upon his face, a new hope now began.

the years have passed, the healing has been done,
the circus now complete, true love has finally won.

and so their happy children, tell this tale at school,
and all they all can say is, “wow that’s really cool”.

Copyright © Gabriel Magno | Year Posted 2015

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I Love You More

the three legged dog scrounging trash cans for a meal in Allentown,
befriends the blind girl with her ragged doll, on her face a permanent frown. 

the mother in need of dangerous drugs, to make it through another day,
sells her wasting body to those who seek, these desperate souls who’ve lost their way. 

soup kitchens filled with greasy men, who walk the unforgiving streets,
their dreams lay shattered, their clothes all tattered, at night roll up in dirty sheets.

the rich man rolls down the darkened window, of his long black limousine,
and tosses quarters on the ground, and laughs at such a frantic scene,

of children scrambling, fighting, biting, to get their measly share,
to buy some candy at the grocery store, as puzzled people look and stare.

as nightfall comes, the trucks roll in to wash the city streets,
but cannot wash away the sadness here, that every day repeats.

the organ grinder with his monkey spots the blind girl in the park,
and puts a dollar in her hand, as the oriole whistles in the dark.

the mother following close behind, extends her hand, asking for more,
he hands another five, she thanks him, walks away and looks to score,

another bag of crack cocaine, as the little girl starts to cry,
“where is my little dog she asks”, the mother asks her why,

“I want my doggie, it’s my friend, and it loves me the best”,
her mother falls upon her knees, and holds her closely to her chest.

“no darling, it’s me that loves you, loves you so much more”,
together they run hand in hand, as the rain begins to pour.

now in rehab she proudly claims “three years today and I’m still clean”, 
happy together now at home, mother, daughter, and the dog they named Aileen’

Copyright © Gabriel Magno | Year Posted 2015

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That Field of Clover

Laying in a field of clover, my white shirt stained with green
The day is almost over, the sun hides in-between
The white spun clouds of Autumn, above the castle’s lawn
I mean to pass the time here, until the break of dawn

I wake to feel the sun, beat on my placid face
And so I rise and walk, a slow and tranquil pace
A team of trotting horses, pulling canons pass me by
The knights are close behind, I hear the victory cry     

And so I join my men, on this a forlorn day 
Preparing for the armies, heading fast this way
I grab my lance and shield, and kneel to say a prayer
And soon to mount my horse, and lead it from it’s lair 

My armor now feels heavy, my horse begins to sag
My duty to the queen, and to my country’s flag
Has moved me to forget, the field where once I laid
And off to war I go, I dare not be afraid 

Through days of mortal combat, and cries of dying men
I sped through scenes of carnage, and crossed the bloodied glen
That led us to the battle field, beyond the Cliffs of Dover  
And trampled through in hundreds, across that field of clover

Copyright © Gabriel Magno | Year Posted 2015

Details | Gabriel Magno Poem

Stoking the Dream Machine

Stoking The Dream Machine

by Gabriel Magno

the rocking horse stood idle, the tricycle had rusted,
the grown up children had their share, and now are well adjusted.

Virginia mountains’ hollows, filled with dirt poor children playing,
in blue jeans stained with red mud, as grandmas sat crocheting.

the knock-kneed mailman suffers, as he walks through Winter’s blizzards,
the hobos near the railroad track, place bets and race their lizards.

the last train passing through, arrived at noon from Corpus Christi,
with sailors who had made a run, to barrooms serving whisky.  

and me I’m passing time, as I try hard in understanding,
how crows atop the mayor’s car, did such a perfect landing.

here comes the ice cream truck, the silver bell is ringing,
the children playing in the park, drag feet to stop their swinging. 

In droves the town folks came, to see the tiny tight rope walker,
the ticket seller smiles, as ladies swoon to this fast talker.
 
the bluebird circles in the air, to gather monarch butterflies,
If this a dream I’m floating in, I hope and pray it never dies.

Copyright © Gabriel Magno | Year Posted 2015

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Book: Shattered Sighs